


The Return

by AnotherIcarus



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Tron AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-11 23:26:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherIcarus/pseuds/AnotherIcarus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce has been missing for twenty years - trapped on the Grid. Now that he's back, he doesn't know where to begin picking up pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Return

**Author's Note:**

> Tron!AU, in which Dick is a bit of both Alan Bradley and TRON himself, as two different entities. Nightwing, the Tron-like entity, rescued Bruce and Damian from being destroyed by Jason, and urged Bruce to go to the real world. He told him to reconnect with the real Dick Grayson, the one he knows Bruce modeled him after.  
> Hopefully someday I'll write out the rest of this AU - until then, hopefully this note will help

The house was deceptively simple, Bruce decided as he pulled up to the curb. Brick exterior with light blue panels where the brick wasn't, a white picket fence with a tree out in the center of the yard.

What if he was married now? Had kids? Damian had had time to grow up - twenty years worth. Dick was always so family oriented, always teasing about more kids, about looking for rings when the younger man had managed to drag him out of the lab.

He heaved a sigh, turned off the engine - strange how after so many cycles - years, he told himself, years - he still remembered how to drive a car. It was like a bike, a bit, only not, and he was getting distracted. Which, really, honestly, might be for the best. What if he found himself face to face with Mrs. Grayson? Or little Dick junior, whatever he was named?

It was visiting a friend, he finally decided on. It was ridiculous, foolishly simple to just hope that he could fix problems from twenty years ago and pick up where they left off. Too simple, too- everything was wrong with it. Still, he climbed out of his car - a rental, for now, until he found one he liked. Once he'd come up with a suitable return story and returned to the limelight. Keys were pocketed, and he took a deep breath.

It was a family home, he decided, looking over it once more. Cheerful and welcoming, but big - surely too big for one man to live on his own.

His feet moved on their own, and he was up at the doorstep in a matter of moments. The air was too dry, lacked that electric sting that had always been present on the grid. There was constant noise -wind, rushing through trees, and birds chittering at each other. The low rush of a car driving past the street. So much more than the Grid's low hum of power.

Maybe he should have waited. Acclimated more to the real world, after having been gone for so long.

Too late now. He knocked.

"Coming!" Came a shout, and he almost released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Nerves. He had -nerves-, and he couldn't recall being this nervous before. This wasn't Dick, protector of the Users he would be seeing. This would be Richard Grayson, former assistant to Wayne Inc., co-inventor when it came to the Grid.

The door opened, and Bruce smiled without meaning to. It was him - he was older, of course - there were a few wrinkles, just beginning to form -laugh lines, Bruce guessed; nothing else would suit him- and his hair was as thick as ever, but graying at the temples. Simple sweater and pants, as always, a testiment to how some things really never changed. "Hi. Can I- oh my god," the cheerful but careless greeting was lost the moment he got a look at Bruce.

So Bruce did the only thing he really could, and offered up his own faint smile. "Dick. It's good to see you again."

"You're here," was what Dick said, and he looked dumbfounded.

Understatement was what Bruce aimed for, and shrugged slightly. "I was in the neighborhood," and never offered up how he knew the address. Wayne Inc. was inevitably the answer, and he knew he didn't need to spell that out to Dick.

"You've been -missing-," came next. He tried not to focus on how accusing it sounded. He merely ducked his head slightly.

"Long story. Not the most believeable, either."

"It better not be. I'd slug you if you were missing for-" Dick faltered. It was like he didn't want to reveal just how caught up he had been in Bruce's absence. "For a while, and you had just run off to Cancun or something." He covered up the slight misstep with a grin, familiar, old, and Bruce ached with the desire to kiss it off of him. A different ache, and yet, no less, from the one he had felt not too long ago, learning that- well, that bore no need to think on. "I don't see a tan, so I guess vacation's off the list. Always was, with you though.'

"Like I said, long story. You... you look well, though."

He nodded, pushed unruly bangs out of his face. "Yeah. You do too." A moment's hesitation, and then he stepped back, holding the door open wider. "Come on in, I'll brew up some coffee, and you can tell me this long story."

Bruce stepped inside, and resisted the urge to immeadiately look around for a wife coming to see who the visitor was - a pair of children chasing down the hall. Neither came, which both relaxed him, and made him seize up. Dick was the sort to have a wife, and the traditional two point five children. Especially with a house like this was. And yet - nothing came. Dick walked by him after closing the door, and gestured for him to follow.

The decor inside was less picturesque - and yet it was comfortable. Mis-matched furniture, a cat sprawled out on the ottoman, a stripe of afternoon sun spilling over him. The whole room had a comfortable, lived in feel, and there was a faint smell of coffee in the air.

"Sorry about the mess. I don't really expect company often," Dick said. He nudged the coffee table aside a bit, and Bruce sat on the couch, looking around a bit more.

No affects of a woman, no toys littering the ground. He couldn't decide, now, if that was welcome or not.

Dick disappeared for a moment - true to his word, turning on the coffee pot, which Bruce soon heard crackling and hissing as it brewed. Dick came back, still all smiles, and sat across from him, right on the edge of the coffee table - close, so close that their knees nearly brushed. If he could just-

He wouldn't, though. Instead, he cleared his throat, sat forward just a little. "So, first - how have you been? What have you been up to?"

Small talk. He'd always been terrible at it, but really, it was the only way to gently request Dick to tell him all the things he had missed. To fill him in where he had been afraid to dig when he looked up the address.

Dick laughed a bit - he probably recognized the tactic, at least a bit.

"I've been okay, all things considered. Been doing a bit of this and that, really. Fell out of the inventing business after we..." Had a falling out went unsaid. Dick chuckled, though. "I'm a cop, now. I'm pretty happy with it, too. I like it, anyway. Pays well enough, and I get to help people. I mean, I know inventing was helping people too, but..." He waved his hand slightly. "A bit more hands on, right?"

"A cop," Bruce repeated, and chuckled. "It suits you, you know. I'm shocked I never thought of that before, it's really perfect for you. What about a family, ever...?"

"Settle down?" Dick finished with a small smile. It looked almost rueful, but he moved, standing as the coffee machine beeped, and the look was gone. "Nah, never ended up working out. Had a few near misses, but... Well, life happens, right? I'll be right back," and he patted Bruce's arm as he walked passed him, back into the kitchen.

Just like that. Never happened, never worked out. Was he supposed to give some condolance on that? He knew how Dick felt about having a family - they'd talked about it enough, back when they were together. It'd been, ultimately, why Dick had called him impossible, had left. Or was he supposed to be excited, glad to be handed this opportunity to fix things, or to at least try?

Navigating personal relationships had never come as easy as making his way through coding, or wiring, or even sautering two pieces of metal together. All those things required logic, and yet a relationship...

A mug of hot coffee was slid into his hands, and Dick once more perched casually on the edge of the coffee table, his own mug in hand. "I'm guessing you still drink it black?"

Bruce nodded, trying to snap out of his thoughts long enough to verbally respond. Turned out he didn't need to.

"I'm glad to see you again, though," Dick said, matter of factly, as if stating the weather. Gently, as if he was afraid it would make Bruce altogether vanish. "You know, there were all these rumors that you'd died. That someone had gotten you out of the way to get a hold of the company." He stirred his coffee a bit, bringing the cream to the surface. "I was worried about Damian, of course - tried to help out as much as I could, but well. Ended up having to go to his mother until he was old enough to leave. After that, I didn't really feel welcome to help, anyway."

"I'm grateful you tried to look out for him anyway." It was necessary to say, even as Bruce hoped that it went without saying.

"Well, of course. He was our- your son." Dick continued on, as if the slip - quiet, simple, unmistakable, and once more the urge to just reach out and -touch- rose up. Bruce instead took a deep drink of coffee. "I couldn't just leave him out in the dust. ...I never believed the rumors that you had just run away to retire, by the way. Not for a second."

"Thank you for believing in my character."

"I believed in -you-." Dick corrected. He turned the mug aimlessly in his hands a bit. "Can I say something probably out of line? If it's... I don't know, stupid or irrelevant, you can just ignore it."

Bruce inclined his head slightly. Curious. Of course he was curious. Especially with that sort of preface, from a man who often spoke without thinking a single word ahead - it was intriguing. It was gut-clenchingly terrifying, all the same, but after living in shadows for years, he was deciding - in honor of the other Dick, the one who had chosen to stay behind - to take chances. And with what a small chance this was - it was a good starting point. "Sure."

Dick nodded slightly. Fiddled with his mug a bit more, took a sip and seemed to savour it like it was some fine liquor and not store brand, pre-ground coffee. Finally, it was said, put out into the air between them, where it hung, aimless and without direction. "I missed you."

"Have you?" The response is immediate - too much so.

Dick only laughed though, too used to dealing with Bruce's different struggles with conversing. Then he nodded, a simple, small smile on his face. "I have. It had gotten better, as time went, but it never stopped. So I guess you could say I'm glad you dropped by. Means-"

"I've been thinking of you as well," Bruce confirmed, nodding. "I have. I just couldn't decide if dropping by unannounced was as good an idea as I seemed to think."

"Couldn't decide if you'd be barging in on some family moment?" Dick had always been alarmingly perceptive - Bruce remembered easily what an attractive trait it was. Even now, it saved him from having to admit things that would be easier dragged out of him. "Well, you didn't."

"I noticed."

A beat of silence passed between them - far from uncomfortable. It was companionable, as Dick finished and set aside his mug, and watched him a moment longer. "So, about that long story-"

"It was the Grid."

"Ah." Dick nodded, a world of understanding packed into a syllable. "I'll want to hear the full story, you know."

"It can wait, though, can't it?"

"Of course it can." The smile he offered was one of understanding, of hopefulness. Agreeing that something could wait was agreeing that there would be a later - they wouldn't part today with the understanding that it was final.

Nothing was ever really final, not for Dick. Not with him, not when they had been on-again, off-again for a handful of years. But still, the reassurance that it was still the case- it was a relief in Bruce's mind, and he reached out a hand to Dick. No request, no context or words. Just a hand, still calloused from all those years of building and constructing, only slightly softened by cycles of inactivity.

Dick's hand was just as rough, when he slipped it into Bruce's grasp and squeezed slightly.

"Waiting on what is the question, though," Dick finally said, voice soft, eyes fixed on Bruce.

The older man simply chuckled, and squeezed back, leaning foward - moving into that shared space between them, causing a knee to brush a knee - and setting his mug beside Dick's. "Well, I don't know. I guess it depends on you." And he smiled - an invitation, laid out as plainly as he could stand. He had never been one for speaking plainly - not to Dick, not when he knew the boy could decipher signals from simple taps into a desk when they were being watched by a curious reporter. 

Dick never failed to pick up on his signals. Never once. Never hesitated, either, when he knew the answer, and this reunion was no exception. He stood, easing up from the careful half-sprawl way he had perched on the table, and leaned in, forward, taking his time as if Bruce would suddenly change his mind.

Never. Never in a hundred years - a thousand cycles - would he change his mind about this. He knew it, with every inch of his being. He was rarely so sure of things not presented within data - this was a welcome blip in the system.

The younger man rested his knee on the couch beside Bruce's lap, he braced his hands on the back of the couch, just a little far to be considered a frame. A few inches above Bruce's face, he stopped, hesitated, motion halted, as he looked, searchingly, over his old lover's face. 

Something he found there made him smile, a small, careful thing, and he finished the movement in, cupping one hand to Bruce's cheek, holding him there, adding just a little physicality, a little touch, to a chaste, simple kiss.

It was so simple - so sweet and so lost to the cycles Bruce had spent alone - that he was left nearly helpless in reponse. He reached up, halfway, to perhaps cradle Dick's face in the same way, and then his hands lost momentum, lost their purpose. He settled them on Dick's hips, instead, curling his fingers inward just enough to make their weight a known presence.

And he sighed, looking up at Dick when he pulled away, and offered a smile of his own, when Dick simply let their foreheards rest together, creating some small space between them where they would share their breath. "I missed you too," he murmured, and among Dick's little delighted laugh, he found that he meant it more than he'd expected.


End file.
